A Vehicon PSA
by ThreeInOne
Summary: "There is nothing wrong with your television set. Do not attempt to adjust the picture. We are now controlling the transmission, we control the horizontal and the vertical..." A random story with no real plot and an Outer-Limits-esque intro. Please R R. Rated T for Cybertronian language.


**((This was an idea I had recently, and it is basically a Decepticon PSA, which I thought I'd take a whirl at writing. It takes place during the episode Thirst, which has officially become my new favorite episode. Please R&R people.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Transformers or Steve the Eradicon/Vehicon. However, I do own Greg, Lefty, and Matt the Vehicons. Take at your own risk people.))**

**The following is a public service announcement courtesy of the Vehicons.**

The camera fades in on two Vehicons, one a grounder, one a flier, both standing in the hangar of the Nemesis.

"Hello everyone," the grounder waves. "I'm Steve, and this is my friend Greg."

"This is stupid," Greg fumes, arms across his chest. "Seriously, Steve? You have all of this equipment and _this _is how you choose to use it, by making a public service announcement? A public service announcement, from _Decepticons_?" he scoffs. "That's almost as stupid as Megatron doing an anti-Dark Energon PSA."

"Well it's better than doing Matt's fashion show idea," Steve points out. "And everyone knows Dark Energon is really space cocaine, so why would Megs give it up. But we're not here to talk about fashion shows, or space cocaine, or bloodsucking robot-zombie-vampires. We're here to talk about—"

"Uh, Steve," Greg interrupts. "We _are _here to talk about bloodsucking robot-zombie-vampires."

"We are?" Steve turns to look at his friend. "I thought that was just Lefty messing with the script again. Anyway, viewers, um, robot-zombie-vampires." Steve claps his hands together, optics shifting. "They're a bad thing, y'know. A really bad thing. Like Unicron bad."

"Primus," Greg sighs, rubbing his helm. "Now, for those of you who aren't aware, robot-zombie-vampires are created by a combination of Dark Energon and Synthetic Energon." The Seeker Vehicon moves to one side to pull over a chalkboard, on which a picture of a Transformer is drawn. "The Dark Energon creates the zombie aspect and the Synthetic Energon creates the vampire aspect, and we're already robots, so that's covered." Greg pulls out a long stick, tapping it against the chalkboard. "Now robot-zombie-vampires can differ in strength, size, and speed, but all of them have the signature protruding proboscis, which serves the purpose of tapping into a line and draining a 'bot dry." He ignores Steve's snickering, while kicking his friend in the shin. "It's been proven by various studies that even the tiniest scratch from one of these proboscises can infect the 'bot bitten, which means that that 'bot will also crave Energon as the robot-zombie-vampires do. Robot-zombie-vampires, as a result, are best taken out from long range. As for the myth of shooting the head to kill them, that is entirely false, as evident by the fact that _humans _came up with it."

"Yeah," Steve nods. "What do those fleshies know, anyway? I mean, they're so fragile and easily squishable. Makes you wonder how they've survived this long. There's so many ways to kill them really." He raises a hand and starts to count off his fingers. "Dissection, decapitation, blood loss, organ loss, brain loss, heart loss, having a limb severed, hanging, being set on fire, being cut in half, being cut into many halves, drowning, electrocution, drowning _with _electrocution…"

"Steve," Greg starts, "please shut up before you drive away our audience."

"Well _excuse _me," Steve mutters. "How was I supposed to know we were catering to a bunch of dumb fleshies?"

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," Greg casts Steve a glare, "the only true way to kill a robot-zombie-vampire is to target its spark, sever its link to the Dark Energon fueling it. Now, if for some unknown reason you find yourself in a huge room with a couple hundred of them—"

"Uhm, Greg," Steve starts, optic band widening.

"Not now," Greg hisses. "Then there are very few options available for you, besides totally freaking out and giving up on life. Of course, you could always attempt to kill as many robot-zombie-vampires as possible, but there is a good chance you'd run out of ammo before that."

"Greg," Steve insists, only to have his friend slap his arm away.

"Really, the best chance for you is to just give up and hope that you die quickly," Greg advises. "There's no hope for you other than that."

"Greg!" Steve shouts.

"What?" Greg snaps back, turning on his friend. "What is so important that you have to interrupt me, Steve?!"

"Look around us," Steve says, deadly serious. The camera pans to reveal the hundreds of robot-vampire-zombies surrounding the two, proboscises bared.

"Aw frag," Greg curses.

"Well," Steve brings out both blaster arms, "I think I'll go with the 'kill as many as possible' option. Wish me luck." With a cry of, "Leeroy Jenkins!", the Vehicon charges into the mass, shooting at all of the creatures chasing him.

"Primus I want to live, please help me, I want to live," Greg whimpers to himself, floor beneath him slick.

"Oh Primus oh Primus oh Primus," the cameramech chants, before he drops the camera and, clad in a big pink dress, starts running in circles. "Aaaaaahhhh! I'm freaking out! I'm freaking out! Oh Primus I'm freaking out!" He runs in circles around the sobbing Greg.

"Cut to commercial!" Steve screams from the group of robot-zombie-vampires, barely holding back a snapping proboscis. "Cut to commercial!"

**We are experiencing technical difficulties. Please stand by…**


End file.
